


Capitol Life

by JavisTG



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, F/M, Haymitch's POV, In Panem AU, Light Angst, POV Multiple, Romance, Spying, everlark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:14:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9277625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JavisTG/pseuds/JavisTG
Summary: An Everlark story inspired by “The Americans”.Born in District 12, Katniss and Peeta are sent to the Capitol as spies. Can real love grow when everything around them is a lie?





	1. The Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Finally! The time has come to share our contributions to last fall's MoreS2SL.
> 
> I want to thank everyone who contributed in some way to this wonderful cause. We have an amazing collection this year. So, make sure to head out to mores2sl (on Tumblr) to find all the entries. 
> 
> You won’t regret it, I promise.
> 
> Now, this was supposed to be a shorter fic. But, as I kept writing, I realized there was a lot more to the story. So, I decided to break it into two parts. 
> 
> Each part is divided into short chapters, which I'll be posting once a week. 
> 
> For those of you who read this story on MS2SL, thank you for your support and for your patience. I'm sorry to keep you waiting for P2 a little bit longer. I promise to update regularly.
> 
> For those of you who are familiar with the "Americans" universe, part 1 is more like an introduction. It has more from THG than it does from TA. Part 2 is the actual spying part, with Katniss and Peeta living in the Capitol. 
> 
> Alright! Enough about me. Hope you enjoy.

****

 

**PART 1. Young Rebels.**

 

Haymitch Abernathy winced. Ripper’s white liquor was stronger than usual, the new batch felt like liquid fire burning a path down his throat. He liked it.

 

It was an ordinary Sunday morning. The Hob was bustling with activity. Vendors and traders exchanged their wares between laughter and jokes. Small children tagged along with their parents and swapped pieces of string, lengths of ribbon or pale marbles. Haymitch could hear them haggling as they followed their parents’ example and tried to get the best end of each deal.

 

One voice, musical and sharp, traveled over the ruckus. “She's still small, but mark my words, one of these days my little girl's gonna give you a run for your money,” the man said with a loud chuckle.

 

Curiosity struck. Haymitch stretched his neck and turned towards the voice. The victor’s eyes landed on Dashiell Everdeen, he smiled. The miner was always bragging about his girls.

 

First, he had talked about his wife, Lillian, who had fallen so hard for his charms she had forgone a life of comfort and security as the town’s apothecary to go live in a small sooty house in the Seam. Then, when his first child was born, the man had driven everyone crazy talking about her perfect little fingers and her ability to show her displeasure by scowling. The newest addition to the family, a tiny blond infant he walked to school every morning, was always on the tip of his tongue. Apparently, the youngest addition to his family had inherited her mother's skill as a healer along with her merchant blue eyes.

 

Haymitch craned his neck to get a better view of the prodigy who, according to her father, had the might to threaten another man’s livelihood. She was small and thin, her dark brown hair was parted in two tight braids, and she smiled happily, beaming under her father’s praise.

 

The victor shook his head as he chuckled to himself. The girl didn't look any different to any other 10-year-old from the Seam. She’d certainly have to be a prodigy with the bow and arrow if she was going to take over her father’s hunting business one day.

 

* * *

 

 

Winter began, bringing short cold days and long nights of nothing to do but sit in the dark and think about the past. Even with Ripper’s liquor flowing through his veins, the old victor couldn't escape his ghosts. They followed him wherever he went. They hid inside cupboards and under the bed, jumping up at him when he least expected it.

 

His companion that particular morning was Mayselee, the blond girl who had died in his arms because he hadn’t been quick enough to stop a vicious mutt from skewering her.

 

The memory of her laughter as she’d taught him how to use the weapon she’d assembled to protect herself had him running out into the cold winter chill.

 

Warm tears fell down his cheeks as he gasped for air.

 

 _I can't do this anymore_ , he thought, _I can't spend another year going through the motions, allowing death and destruction to rule. I can't keep ignoring their voices, they deserve to rest. I owe them that much._

 

* * *

 

 

Spring was shy that year, and the long, harsh winter overstayed its welcome.

 

The district was in mourning. An explosion at the mine had killed hundreds of men, and their families were still trying to recover from their loss.

 

Haymitch was on his way back to Victors’ Village. He had taken the long route, walking alongside the electrified fence to escape the Peacekeepers’ prying eyes. Spring was in the air, and he smiled as he thought about the two bottles of Ripper’s finest liquor he held in each hand.

 

Suddenly, he heard a rustling noise.

 

He stopped, frozen on his spot, and waited for the sound to come again. Almost a minute went by before he heard it, a telltale crunching of dry leaves followed by a childish curse word which made him smile.

 

Slowly, Haymitch turned on his heels. His eyes widened when they landed on the foul-mouthed noise-maker.

 

The girl was small and thin, her dark brown hair had been woven into a messy braid which hung limply over her shoulder. Her olive skin was pale and dry. Dark bruise-like circles sat bellow her eyes.

 

She looked sad and lonely, just another Seam child who had been left behind.

 

The light coat of dirt which covered her clothes peaked Haymitch’s curiosity, so he took a moment to consider the evidence in front of him.

 

The old victor shook his head, unwilling to accept what his gut told him to be true.

 

Very few grown-ups ventured out into the woods. It took a special kind of courage to sneak under the barbed wire fence and risk the dangers of the unknown. Even the toughest of men forbade their children from going out into the wilderness on their own.

 

So, who was this girl who had the courage to sneak, unsupervised, under the fence?

 

The menacing scowl she was currently wearing was her calling card.

 

“You're Dash Everdeen's kid, right?” the victor asked.

 

The girl's eyes hardened with the pain of grief and she nodded.

 

“Sorry about your Pa,” he said.

 

The girl lowered her eyes, the mention of her father making her features soften.

 

Haymitch watched her shoulders slump as a deep sadness settled over them.

 

She was just a girl, small and fatherless. And, if the rumors were true, she'd soon be motherless too.

 

 _When was the last time this girl had a meal?_ Haymitch wondered. Even by Seam standards, she was in bad shape.

 

“What have you got there?” he asked, directing his eyes toward the satchel she carried across her shoulders.

 

“It's just a squirrel,” the girl murmured as she clutched the bag’s strap protectively between her bony fingers.

 

Haymitch nodded. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “next time you catch something furry, bring it over to me. I’m in the third house in Victors’ Village. I’ll pay good coin for whatever you bring.”

 


	2. The Mentor

The 70th Hunger Games were about to begin.

 

Determined to turn his life around, Haymitch decided to use his yearly visit to the Capitol to reach out to those hushed voices which had unsuccessfully tried to contact him over the years.

 

For the first time since he’d become a victor, Haymitch stopped drinking. Sobriety meant being able to think clearly. It also meant noticing all those little things he had so conveniently ignored in the past.

 

Like the sadness of the victor from District 4; a bronze-haired boy with a seductive smile and bright green eyes who looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders as he fussed over the newest victor from his district.

 

Or the vacant look on the veteran from District 2; an imposing woman with glossy blond hair whose nephew had volunteered for the upcoming Game.

 

Haymitch's days in the Capitol were long and slow.

 

The sorrow and despair he noticed everywhere he went made him want to jump head first into a liquor bottle, but he refused to give up. He had been trapped in a downward spiral for far too long. He desperately needed to start moving towards the light.

 

As days went by, people began to notice the change in the victor’s attitude. Slowly, they approached him, giving voice to all their long hidden fears and frustrations. As the sadness Haymitch had seen in their eyes morphed into thinly veiled anger, the victor knew he wasn't alone.

 

Before long, Haymitch discovered a whole world of underground connections; an organization built on stolen glances and whispered secrets which welcomed him and immediately assigned him a task.

 

By the time the Game was over, Haymitch Abernathy, 50th victor of the Hunger Games, had become a rebel agent.

 

* * *

 

 

Being a rebel mentor was far more taxing than Haymitch had expected.

 

As a victor, Haymitch had spent most of his life transporting children, who originally were only slightly younger than himself, and delivering them into the bloodthirsty hands of the Capitol.

 

It had been a dreadful experience which had left him feeling hollow and broken, and which had taught him to keep his distance from his wards.

Trying to make his life more bearable, Haymitch had spent the last 20 years of his life avoiding children like the plague; always afraid of the day when one of them would become a tribute he’d have to prepare for the Games.

 

But, to become a rebel mentor, he had to change his ways.

 

Luckily for him, there were rebel operatives who had access to the list of names which went into the reaping bowl each year. These agents would erase certain names from the list before the draw even began, guaranteeing the safety of young rebel recruits all over Panem.

 

This gave Haymitch the freedom to choose his trainees however he pleased. If he thought someone had potential, he could recruit them without fear of losing them.

 

Some of Haymitch’s new occupations included selecting and observing his trainees. He had to evaluate their skills, understand their motivations to make sure they would remain loyal to the rebel cause, and further their education. The latter meant that the old mentor had to learn some new tricks.

 

Rebel agents were taught how to decipher various types of code. They were expected to mimic the accents and intonations from the different districts proficiently, and they were encouraged to learn some sort of self-defense technique. 

 

Some candidates were quick learners. Many of them were smuggled to the different rebel camps soon after they began their training. But, in some cases, the instruction process took years.

 

Since District 12 was a poor district with a small rebel base, comprised mostly of miners who had little free time, Haymitch was assigned as its primary recruiter. Between selecting possible candidates, training them, and preparing himself, it seemed like his job as a rebel mentor was never done.

 

Every year, the old victor used his trip to the Capitol to contact his allies and to receive instructions from District 13, the heart of the rebellion.

 

The tributes he took to the Games still died every year, but the victor consoled himself by thinking that the end of the regime was no longer an impossible dream. The reports he received from all across the country gave him the strength and determination he needed to keep pushing forward.

 

* * *

 

 

Haymitch's first recruit was the Everdeen girl.

 

The miner's daughter had been the perfect candidate for his scheme.

 

Resourceful and resilient, Katniss Everdeen had been desperate when Haymitch found her sneaking under the fence in early spring.

 

And, even though the girl hadn't exactly welcomed his ideas at first, her dedication and commitment to her family had made it easy for the victor to bring her on board. She had practically jumped at the opportunity as soon as Haymitch had offered immunity from the Games for the girl and her little sister, Prim.

 

True to her father’s prediction, Katniss was an excellent huntress. She was stealthy and observant. The time she'd spent in the woods had taught her to be patient and, even though she was young, she took her assignment seriously.

 

After years of living like a recluse, Haymitch warmed up to the scowling girl. He enjoyed having someone to talk to. And, though he would never admit it to her face, he actually enjoyed her dry sense of humor.

 

His only concern was the girl's impulsive nature. As far as Haymitch knew, order and discipline were highly valued in District 13.

 

The truth was that the idea of the rebel district, with its underground corridors and military discipline, unnerved him. And Katniss's tendency to disregard instructions when they didn't suit her needs worried him.

 

But he knew the girl, and he knew she was too smart to jeopardize the best chance she had of keeping her family safe.

 

He also knew that the main center of rebel activity was itching to free the country from President Snow’s reign. And he hoped Katniss’s specific skillset would justify putting up with a little insubordination; even when it was mixed with her unpleasant scowls and bad temper.

 

Besides, the victor had a project in mind for his pupil, and he firmly believed that, if District 13 accepted his proposal, Katniss Everdeen’s temper tantrums would not be an issue for long.


	3. The Boy

The boy wasn't very tall, but his strong arms and wide shoulders made him look bigger than he was.

 

Haymitch had been watching him for months, ever since he found him on his doorstep, a bag with the bakery's weekly delivery in his right hand, and a nasty shiner on his left eye.

 

The boy had brushed the bruise off, said he was clumsy and had fallen down, but something in his blue eyes had betrayed his anxiety. The incident had peaked the old victor’s curiosity, and so he’d taken it upon himself to keep an eye out for the baker’s youngest son.

 

When the school’s wrestling coach, one of Haymitch’s old drinking buddies, mentioned the boy's agility and discipline, the victor’s ears perked up.

 

According to the man, the blue-eyed boy was likely to become District 12’s best wrestler.

 

Intrigued by the coach’s appraisal, Haymitch attended every single wrestling match at the school that year.

 

The baker’s son didn't disappoint. The old victor couldn't remember the last time he’d seen such a cunning fighter.

 

The boy had a natural gift for analyzing his opponents and detecting their weaknesses. He was efficient and clean when it came to resolving a match, he never used more force than was necessary, and he ended every fight with a humble smile and a respectful nod to his competitors.

 

There was something in the boy's easy demeanor that made him perfect for the plan Haymitch had set in motion on that cold winter’s night; when he’d decided to start honoring those who had lost their lives to quench the insatiable thirst for blood of their authoritarian ruler.

 

But there was a problem.

 

Haymitch Abernathy didn’t know what being a merchant in District 12 was like, and he didn't know what to offer the boy to make his involvement with a burgeoning rebellion worthwhile.

 

Growing up in the Seam, Haymitch hadn't had much contact with those who grew up in town. Yes, they’d all gone to the same school and attended the same classes, but townies and moles (as the miners’ children were dismissively called) never mixed. Haymitch remembered watching their pale skin and blue eyes, which were so different from his own, and wondering where they’d come from.

 

Years later, Haymitch had been thrown into an arena.

 

Mayselee, his district partner and ally, came from a merchant home. But she hadn’t been one of those vain bubbly girls he had seen flirting and giggling with their friends while she walked along the market on Saturday evenings.

 

Mayselee was determined and focused; never spoke more than was necessary. She had saved his life, but she hadn't shared much about hers.

 

By the time the second Quarter Quell was over, Haymitch knew every detail about the blond girl’s death, but he knew precious little about her life.

 

But, even if the old mentor didn’t know the fears and torments which afflicted merchants, he knew people. And he was certain that life in District 12, with all its restrictions, couldn’t possibly be enough for a smart boy who, in Haymitch’s appreciation, was meant for bigger things.

 

The sadness and frustration which lived in the kid's blue eyes made the victor believe he wouldn't have to dig too deep to find what was missing in his life.  

 

* * *

 

The school's wrestling championship was over.

 

The baker’s youngest son had just finished second after losing in the final match against his older brother.

 

The school's gymnasium exploded in cheers as the siblings stepped onto the small podium.

 

On the third place spot, the carpenter’s son smiled and waved at the audience.

 

Haymitch’s chest tightened at the sight of the three blond heads on the stage. _One more year of merchant winners_ , he thought.

 

The sad truth was that even when they trained, children from the Seam were never fit enough to become wrestlers. They were never strong enough to become victors either.

 

Haymitch turned to leave. This was a time for celebration, and he wasn't about to ruin it with his sad thoughts.

 

He was almost at the door when he saw her.

 

Dashiell Everdeen’s taciturn daughter was sitting on the back row. A soft blush painted her olive cheeks, and her ever-present scowl had been replaced by a happy smile.

 

To the casual observer, she looked just like any other 16-year-old girl. But Haymitch knew her better than that, girly and cheery had never been her style.

 

Intrigued, he followed the girl's gaze.

 

The victor wasn't too surprised to find the baker’s youngest son on the receiving end of the girl’s attention. The boy had just won a competition, after all. What he hadn't expected, was to find the wrestler shyly looking back at her.

 

The boy’s smile widened under the girl’s appreciative gaze. His blue eyes sparkled.

 

Haymitch could have sworn the boy was about to say something when, instead, he turned away.

 

The whole exchange didn't last more than a few seconds. No words were spoken. But the emptiness reflected in the teenagers’ eyes in the moments which followed, was the undeniable evidence of the bond they shared.

 

Suddenly, all the notions Haymitch had been toying with over the last few months came into focus. Everything he knew fell into place as his mind came up with the solution he had struggled to find for so long. Satisfied, he smiled.

 

For the first time in years, the old victor felt a warm tingle of hope blossoming in his chest.


	4. Leaving the Nest

Peeta Mellark was 16 when Haymitch finally approached him.

 

Determined to add the blue-eyed boy to the Rebel program, the victor had swallowed his anxiety and approached the boy during one of his weekly bread deliveries to Victors’ Village.

 

In stark contrast with the miner’s daughter, who had been reserved and weary, the merchant boy was open and direct; he seemed genuinely interested in Haymitch's proposal, and he didn't waste the victor's time by pretending he wasn't.

 

When asked about his reasons for wanting to join the rebel cause, Peeta quickly explained that being third in line in a merchant family wasn't the easy life most people imagined.

 

Haymitch's eyes widened in wonder at the stories the boy shared with him.

 

He had always assumed merchant families took care of their own. But, in District 12, where being privileged meant living on stale bread and beatings, no one could make any promises. And while some families did go to great lengths to care for their offspring, the Mellark household was definitely not one of them.

 

Peeta still had more options than any kid from the Seam, but he wasn’t satisfied with them.

 

He hated the notion of marrying someone to satisfy his mother’s need to keep a prominent position within their social group, and his chances of landing a job as a civil servant were somewhat slim. One of his best options was to get a job at the school. But the district was small, and new teachers were hardly ever needed.

 

The baker’s son believed he had a right to live life on his own terms. He didn’t want his mother, or his district’s conventions, to dictate his future and to make his choices for him.

 

He was willing to make sacrifices, but he needed to believe they were for a worthy cause.

 

Haymitch had never seen life that way. He had never considered having options and demanding more, but he appreciated the boy’s philosophy and the fact that he was willing to fight for his ideals.

 

* * *

 

Haymitch had spent little over a year training Peeta when District 13 arranged the boy’s extraction.

 

With the Quarter Quell fast approaching, the rebel army needed to gather its assets.

 

President Snow’s decision to reap “the strongest among the population” hadn’t been a popular one. The special provision included 18-year olds and those who had never registered for tesserae. It excluded most of the population who would normally be eligible for the Game, but it also sent a terrifying message. Where the government was concerned, no one was safe.

 

All over Panem, people complained. It was just a matter of time before the districts banded together, and District 13 was going to need eyes and ears in as many places as possible if they wanted to stay on top of things.

 

Following Haymitch’s instructions, Peeta snuck out of his parents’ home one night to go to a clandestine party in one of the old warehouses in the Seam.

 

The only thing Peeta had to do was attend the party and pretend to get drunk. The other teenagers eventually went back home, leaving him behind. That’s when Peeta made a run for the woods where he found a hovercraft from District 13 waiting for him.

 

Shortly after midnight, with Peeta long gone, one of Haymitch’s connections set the old warehouse on fire.

 

The man was also responsible for providing the remains of an unknown teenager who would later be identified as the baker’s youngest son.

 

Haymitch didn’t doubt Peeta's commitment to the cause, but he still had to make sure his pupil understood what was at stake if he chose to leave the district.

 

“You won’t be able to see your family ever again,” Haymitch said, “as far as they’ll know, you’ll be dead.”

 

Peeta’s eyes hardened under his mentor’s gaze. “That’s OK,” he answered, “They’ll miss me at first, but they don’t really need me. If anything, they’ll probably be relieved. They won't have to worry about me anymore.”

 

* * *

 

The six years Haymitch spent mentoring Katniss went by quickly. By the time the girl was called to serve the rebel cause, she had become a woman.

 

Extracting Katniss and her family from the district wasn't too hard.

 

On Haymitch’s insistence, Katniss had spent years hunting and trading with several merchants to provide for her family.

 

Most people knew the miner’s daughter went under the fence every day, and they turned a blind eye to her illegal activities. No one was surprised when, one day after turning 18, the girl and her family had just disappeared.

 

After all, it wasn't uncommon for desperate people who had been using the woods for sustenance to make a run for it.

 

Most of them never made it back.

 

No one knew if it was because they'd managed to survive in the wild, or because they'd been taken into custody by the Capitol hovercraft which patrolled the area. But no one batted an eyelash when Katniss didn’t show up for work on her first day at the mine.

 

The foreman she’d been assigned to, went over to her house and, after finding it empty, reported the girl and her family to the Peacekeepers.

 

His statement was recorded, but no further actions were taken.

 

The vendors at the Hob lamented the loss of freshly caught fish and expertly shot squirrels. But, as weeks went by, they began to adapt and, in some ways, even to forget.

 

Fantastic stories still made their way into the illegal market from time to time.

 

People liked to talk, and there was never a shortage of theories involving the three delicate women who had traded the safety of their district for a life among the wild beasts.

 

Haymitch sat on Ripper’s stall and smirked as he remembered watching Katniss, her mother, and her sister as they boarded the hovercraft which would take them to District 13.

 

A satisfied smile settled on the victor’s lips. His job was done. He had kept his end of the bargain. He had trained a good crop of agents and sent them on their way.

 

It was time for District 13 and its allies to do their part.

 

The victor took a sip of his liquor and winced.

 

He didn’t drink as much as he once had, but he had never been able to completely break the habit. The nightmares which plagued him hadn’t gone away just because he’d decided to fight back. If anything, his rebel activities had brought a new kind of fear and anxiety into his life.

 

His stomach churned as he reminded himself of how little he knew about District 13 and of its plans for the country once the current government was overthrown. But, there was nothing he could do to change this.

 

Filling his lungs with the market’s stale air he hoped he had made the right choice by handing his trainees over to them.

 

There was nothing to do now except wait.


	5. Recruits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're out of District 12 and it's time to leave Haymitch's POV behind. From now on, I'll be alternating through different characters.
> 
> Part 1 is almost over! Yes, it's just this chapter and the next and then we'll be moving on to Part 2. 
> 
> For those of you who have asked for longer chapters: Chapters in Part 2 will be longer. You'll probably have to wait a little bit more between updates, because I don't have the whole thing finished yet, but you'll be getting more words per chapter. Hope you can hang around until then. 
> 
> One more thing: I want to thank ForFutureReference for helping me come up with Katniss and Peeta's alternate Capitol names. He really came to my rescue with that one!
> 
> Alright! Back to the story now. Hope you enjoy!

The first time Peeta Mellark saw Katniss Everdeen he was five years old.

 

It was his first day of school. Peeta was about to walk into the schoolyard when his father kneeled next to him and pointed to the small Seam girl who wore a red plaid dress.

 

In a hushed murmur, the baker told his youngest son an incredible story of enchanting melodies and unrequited love which made the boy's mind reel.

 

Later that day, Katniss stood in front of the entire class and sang the Valley Song.

 

The girl's sweet voice made Peeta’s heart soar as he imagined a love deep and powerful enough to color every corner of the bleak place in which he lived.

 

He never talked to her. He wanted to, but he was afraid of what the graceful girl might think of him. If his father, the town’s baker, hadn't been good enough for Katniss’s mom, what chances did Peeta have? According to his mother, he was nothing more than another mouth to feed. So what could he possibly offer a creature as bewitching and delicate as Katniss was?

 

Years went by.

 

Tragedy struck.

 

The miner with the mythical voice was killed in a mining accident which left a sorrowful scar across the district.

 

Peeta watched as Katniss slowly turned into a shell of what she’d been. The girl was almost like a ghost, with sallow cheeks, and dry, brittle hair. Her voice, once pure and sweet, vanished in the dark pit of her despair.

 

In a district where everyone was hurting, Peeta was drawn to Katniss's sorrow like a moth to a flame. His eyes followed everywhere she went as his mind tried to find a solution to her predicament. But it was no use, there was nothing he could do.

 

Day after day, Katniss became weaker.

 

Peeta's frustration grew. He was only eleven, but he would have given anything to bring life back into Katniss's dull eyes.

 

One rainy afternoon, he finally had his chance.

 

He was working in the bakery when he heard his mother yell out onto to the street. Curious, Peeta sneaked a peek. His chest tightened when his eyes found Katniss huddled under the scraggly apple tree across the yard.

 

Katniss’s vacant stare was like a punch to Peeta’s gut. Without thinking, the 11-year old boy immediately snapped into action.

 

Two perfect loaves, filled with nuts and dried fruits, landed on the open oven’s hot coals. Their crisp golden crusts were instantly charred. By the time Mrs. Mellark realized what had happened, the two pieces of bread had been ruined. 

 

Peeta gritted his teeth and took his punishment.

 

His mother didn’t hold back.

 

The wooden spatula she was holding struck Peeta across the face making his cheek burn and his eyes water.

 

Peeta held back his tears. He fished the loaves out from the embers, and pretended to feed them to the pigs while he waited for his mother to go to the front of the store. Once he was certain the coast was clear, he tossed what was left of the burnt loaves in Katniss’s direction and hurried back into the kitchen.

 

Days went by.

 

Peeta watched.

 

Katniss slowly came back to life. She was like a delicate bloom, blossoming after a long hard winter.

 

Peeta’s chest swelled with pride whenever he saw her sun-kissed cheeks and lustrous hair. But, even though a part of him firmly believed that her change was connected to the loaves of bread he’d given her, he still refused to seek her out. The last thing he wanted was for Katniss to speak to him out of obligation. So he stayed away, content to watch her flourish from afar.

 

The one thing Katniss never recovered was her love for music.

 

Peeta longed to hear her voice once more. But he understood that life and tragedy had taken it away from her. He just hoped that someday, somehow, her father’s sweet melodies would find their way back into her heart.

 

* * *

 

The first time Peeta Mellark spoke to Katniss Everdeen he was 19 years old.

 

He had been living in District 13 for a little over a year. He had already finished his training as an undercover agent and was waiting to receive his first assignment.

 

Peeta’s palms itched as he turned the doorknob and made his way into Commander Boggs’s Office. He couldn’t wait to leave the dark corridors of District 13 behind.

 

He found the commanding officer sitting at his desk, a dark-haired girl sat on a chair across from him, her back to the door.

 

A wave of nostalgia gripped Peeta’s heart. He didn’t need to see the girl’s face to know where she came from. The intricate knots on her braided hair and the warm olive skin of her neck could only come from one place. The Seam.

 

Commander Boggs smiled at the young recruit and welcomed him into the room. “Soldier,” the officer said, “looks like it’s time for you to meet your partner on this assignment. Please, introduce yourself.”

 

Peeta nodded, he had been in District 13 long enough to know he was being tested. Commander Boggs wanted him to use his Capitol accent, and the name he’d been assigned for the mission, when he introduced himself to his new partner.

 

“Hello,” Peeta said in the high-pitched tone he’d perfected over the years, “I’m Petrus. Pleased to meet you, miss...”

 

Slowly, the girl turned around; her gray eyes, wide and shocked, met Peeta’s.

 

Taken off guard, Peeta pulled back. Sitting in front of him, looking thunderstruck, was the girl who still haunted his dreams. Katniss Everdeen.

 

The air hung heavy in the stuffy room as Haymitch's pupils took each other in. Their minds racing with unanswered questions.

 

Katniss was the first to break the silence. “Diana,” she croaked, “nice to meet you too,” she added perfectly mimicking the Capitol lilt.

 

Commander Boggs cleared his throat. “So, you two come from District 12. I take it you know each other?”

 

Peeta shook his head. Keeping his Capitol accent he explained, “not really. We went to school together, but we grew up in different parts of town. We’ve never spoken to each other.”

 

From her seat, Katniss nodded her agreement.

 

The commander pursed his lips and rubbed his chin. He wasn't pleased. In his experience, assignments worked better when the agents didn't share a past. He wondered why Haymitch Abernathy hadn't bothered to include that piece of information in his trainees’ files.

 

He glanced at the pile of documents on his desk. Briefly, he considered reassembling his assets, but he immediately decided against it. He knew every agent’s file by heart, and he was certain that there was no better match for these two.

 

Commander Boggs leaned back in his chair and folded his arms in front of his chest.

 

“You know each other's real names, then,” he asked.

 

“Yes,” the agents replied in unison.

 

“Well, this is hardly ideal. But, beggars can't be choosers,” he grumbled. Pointing to the empty chair next to Katniss he said, “Petrus, please take a seat. It's time to learn what your assignment will be.”


	6. Partners

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve reached the last chapter of Part 1! 
> 
> For those of you who read this in the MoreS2SL collection: I’ve added a whole new section to this chapter, so you might want to check it out.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

With a curt nod, Peeta followed the commander’s instruction.

 

Katniss shifted in her seat and turned to face her superior.

 

A single thought, repeated on an endless loop, followed the frantic pace of her heart. Peeta Mellark’s alive, Peeta Mellark’s alive, Pee…

 

As her heart raced inside her chest, desperately trying to escape the confines of her ribcage, her palms began to sweat. Discreetly, she pressed them against her pants and hoped they’d dry off.

 

With short, shallow breaths, Katniss regained control of her breathing. As her heartbeat slowed down, she carefully schooled her features to reflect indifference.

 

Across from her, Commander Boggs produced two envelopes. He handed one to her and the other one to Peeta.

 

“These are your mission’s details,” the commander said, “take a look at them.”

 

With trembling hands, Katniss pulled a single sheet of paper out of the envelope. There, in a few words written in black ink, rested her future.

 

Katniss took a deep breath and focused on the document she held.

 

According to the paper, she had been assigned to a fact-finding mission in the Capitol. She and her chosen partner were supposed to set up and manage a communication center there. They’d be in charge of collecting data, and of transferring information from other agents out in the field. Their mission would require constant contact with rebel operatives and interactions within the Capitol community.

 

There wasn’t a time estimate as to how long the mission might last.

 

Slowly, so as not to betray the light tremor of her hands, she left the paper on the desk in front of her. She linked her hands together and lowered them to her lap.

 

From the corner of her eye, she saw Peeta. He was gripping his paper so tightly his fingertips were white.

 

“So,” Commander Boggs said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the desk, “those are the most basic details of your assignment. But, as you can imagine, there are a few more things you need to know.

 

“First, you’ll be traveling to the Capitol as soon as possible. You’ve already been assigned a handler who’s waiting for you there. For security reasons, I can’t tell you his name. But you’ll be meeting him soon enough. 

 

“Second, this man has managed to secure a property in the busiest commercial sector in the Capitol. You’ll be living there, and you’ll be running the shop on the ground floor of the building.”

 

Raising his eyebrows, the commander asked, “Got any questions so far?”

 

“What kind of shop is it, sir?” Peeta asked.

 

“I’m not sure,” the commander admitted, “but your handler knows what your skills are, so it’ll probably be something related to food.”

 

Peeta nodded.

 

“Now, the communication center,” Commander Boggs continued, “this will be set up somewhere in the building. You’ll have permanent access to it. From there you’ll be able to receive and send the all the information gathered by you and other agents. At times, it will also work as a shelter, housing operatives who might just be passing through the Capitol in their various missions.”

 

Katniss nodded. Haymitch had explained the operation of communication centers more than once. She suspected her extensive training on the subject was one of the reasons why she’d been chosen for this mission.

 

“One more thing,” the commander said, “your identities. As far as the people of the Capitol are concerned, you two are a couple of newlyweds from one of the poorest sectors of the city who got lucky during the last Hunger Game.”

 

Newlyweds.

 

Katniss’s mouth went dry. She had known this was a possibility, but she hadn’t imagined going through with it with someone she knew.

 

Trying her best to disguise her discomfort, she asked, “Did we bet on the winning tribute?”

 

Commander Boggs smiled. “No.  You put your money on the second best.”

 

Next to her, Peeta cleared his throat. “Sounds like we’re smart. No one thought the girl from 10 would last that long.”

 

“Right,” the commander agreed, “smart and very rich. That’s why you can afford to open a new shop in such an exclusive part of town.”

 

Commander Boggs relaxed back into his chair. “One more thing, a big part of this mission is to infiltrate Capitol society. You’ll have employees, neighbors, clients, even friends. It’s vital that people there believe your cover stories. You must look like Capitolites, sound like Capitolites, and act like Capitolites, at all times. Without exception. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Katniss and Peeta answered simultaneously.

 

* * *

 

It was late at night.

 

As Katniss lay in bed, listening to the soothing sound of her sister's even breathing, she knew nothing would ever be the same.

 

Katniss’s father had died when she was 11, leaving her to watch over Prim and herself, while her mother, unable to cope with her loss, fell into a deep depression.

 

For a young girl, who could barely make ends meet, the notion of romantic love had seemed impractical and debilitating. She had been terrified at the idea that any one person could hold that much power over another.

 

Katniss knew she could not break free from the love she felt for her sister, and that she would risk anything to keep her safe. But she refused to accept any more emotional entanglements. The only way to stay safe, she reasoned, was to reject love and marriage. After all, love led to heartbreak and marriage to family, and Katniss couldn't afford either.

 

Years later, Haymitch had warned her that most of the long-term operations the rebels managed required the pretense of marriage between agents. According to the experts, it was easier to keep a double life when your partner appeared to be your significant other.

 

Katniss had no expectations of romance in her life, so she had stuck with the program. In her mind, there was nothing more important than keeping her family safe, and a union created with the sole purpose of overthrowing a government would surely eliminate love from the equation.

 

In the years she spent under Haymitch's tutelage, Katniss learned how to crack different types of codes; she perfected her speech patterns, mastered the art of going by unnoticed while keeping track of her surroundings, and kept to herself.

 

Katniss knew she would be transferred to District 13 as soon as she was out of school, and that it wouldn't take long for her to receive her first assignment once she got there.

 

She thought she was ready. But all her courses and training hadn't prepared her for the shock of finding Peeta Mellark waiting for her in District 13.

 

She still remembered the emptiness she'd felt when she heard about his death.

 

Katniss had never spoken to the baker’s son, but she had never forgotten his generosity. In a district where hunger had made people cagey and mean, the merchant boy had been an oddity. The loaves of burnt bread he had thrown into Katniss’s lap, had given her the strength she needed to turn her life around.

 

The guilt she'd felt over never thanking him for the bread had been laced with a deep sorrow she had never really understood. But which had taken a hold on her, filling the days which followed Peeta’s death with sadness and despair.

 

It took a few weeks for the miner’s daughter to accept she would never see the boy with the kind smile ever again. When the sadness finally lifted, Katniss embraced her training with renewed resolve.

 

Convinced that the government’s negligence was to blame for Peeta's accident, she made a vow to avenge the generous boy by bringing the authorities down. Suddenly, turning into a spy for the rebels was about more than simply staying alive.

 

In the months that followed, the intensity of her grief over Peeta’s death waned, but she never forgot her vow or her purpose. She never wavered in her intent.

 

And now, all those months later, she found herself in District 13. Unable to sleep as she angrily recounted all the times Haymitch had lied to her.

 

As far as she knew, the old victor was the only active recruiter in her district. Which meant he must have been Peeta's mentor as well as hers.

 

Suddenly, Peeta's deliveries to Victors’ Village took on a new meaning.

 

Katniss had always seen the weekly transaction as one of Haymitch's odd idiosyncrasies. Knowing Mrs. Mellark and her bad manners, the girl hadn't been too surprised by the victor's decision to avoid the bakery as much as possible. But finding out those trips had just been an excuse for Peeta to meet his mentor made her feel betrayed.

 

She couldn't even count the times she'd crossed paths with the boy on her way to Haymitch's house.

 

How much had Peeta known about Haymitch's recruiting activities, she wondered. Had he suspected anything, or had he been as blind to her training as she'd been about his?

 

She was about to go off on an angry tangent, suddenly weary of the fact that Peeta might have had access to privileged information, when she remembered the surprised look on his face that morning and how it had mirrored hers.

 

No, Katniss decided, Peeta hadn't known anything. He’ been in the dark just as much as her.

 

Exhaustion was taking its toll. As Katniss began to relax, a sudden wave of sadness gripped her.

 

In just a few hours, she’d have to say goodbye to her family. She'd spent years preparing for this moment, but she was still saddened by the idea that she wouldn't see Prim anymore.

 

But, even if the prospect of a new life in the Capitol made her nauseous, she had no choice other than to go forward. The rebels had kept her, and Prim, safe from the reaping and the Games.

 

She was in District 13’s debt. And now, it was time to repay the favor.

 

The anger she'd been feeling towards Haymitch all night began to dissipate as she realized that all his lying and sneaking behind her back had given her something priceless.

 

Haymitch had brought Peeta back into her life, and she couldn't feel anything more than grateful for the gift. Because, even if Peeta's new name sounded foreign and cold in her ears, she knew it was just a cover, a part of his disguise.

 

His body language in Commander Boggs’s office told her that, under the agent façade, he was still the same boy she remembered. And that meant she wouldn't have to face the unknown on her own.

 

Suddenly, being able to keep a piece of home by her side everywhere she went made her task a bit less daunting.

 

Minutes trickled by.

 

Katniss waited for morning to break and wondered which surprises the new day would bring.


	7. Code Name: Mockingjay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 is finally here! Hope you enjoy.

Katniss looked at the small piece of paper she held tightly between her fingers. "203," she read quietly to herself.

 

She raised her eyes and found a dull gray door looking back at her.

 

There was nothing special about it. The number 203, engraved on a small metal plate, was the only thing setting it apart from every other door along the dimly lit hallway where she stood. Still, the sight of it made Katniss’s chest tighten.

 

Slowly, she folded the piece of paper and slipped it into her pocket.

 

Anxious hands patted the front and back of her uniform’s trousers. Insistently smoothing invisible wrinkles from the garment.

 

Inhaling deeply, she stretched her back by rolling her shoulders and pushing out her chest.

 

Slowly, she let the air out of her lungs, running her fingers along her tight braid, and carefully bringing it over her shoulder.

 

“It's no big deal,” she told herself, “just a formality. People do it all the time.”

 

“Yeah. Foolish people!” a little voice inside of her pipped in.

 

Katniss shook her head to silence the annoying voice.

 

Her hands closed into tight fists, and her whole body tensed for a moment, then relaxed, allowing her anxiety to seep out of her.

 

“For Prim,” she said, reaching for the doorknob and pushing the door open.

 

* * *

 

“You may kiss the bride,” the judge said.

 

Katniss swallowed nervously and glanced at Peeta. He looked almost as anxious as she felt.

 

With a steadying breath, she turned her whole body towards him.

 

Peeta followed her movements. His deep blue eyes found hers, and he smiled. It was shy and sweet, and it sent a blast of unexpected warmth rushing through her body.

 

Flustered, Katniss closed her eyes and lifted her chin, offering her lips to him.

 

With a touch as soft as a butterfly’s wings, Peeta cupped her cheek and leaned down to kiss her.

 

The kiss didn't last more than a few seconds. But the soft brush of Peeta's lips against hers made Katniss’s heart flutter.

 

Peeta let go of her face and pulled away.

 

Katniss sighed. When she opened her eyes, she found Peeta had already turned around and was facing the judge once more.

 

The ceremony was over.

 

The judge handed Peeta the wedding certificate and shook his hand. Then, he turned towards Katniss and repeated the gesture. “It's been an honor,” the man, who Katniss knew was a refugee from District 10, said, “I wish you the best of luck.”

 

Peeta and Katniss thanked the man and left the room, using one of District 13’s endless hallways to reach the nearest bank of elevators.

 

The loud echo of Peeta's footsteps in the barren corridor made Katniss flinch. She briefly wondered why their mentor hadn't bothered to teach him how to be lighter on his feet.

 

The couple stepped into the elevator, and Peeta pressed a couple of buttons on the panel.

 

Katniss held her breath and listened to the soft hum of the elevator’s engine as they began to move. She hadn't been in District 13 for very long, and the idea of being so deep underground still made her queasy. Slowly, she released the air in her lungs, keeping her eyes trained on the polished steel doors.

 

The reality of what had just happened was beginning to sink in, and she felt restless. She needed some privacy and space to digest everything that had happened. But those were rare commodities in District 13, and she knew she still had a long, busy day ahead of her.

 

Peeta's soft whisper cut through her thoughts, “You ok?” For once, his voice had none of the traces of his perfect Capitol accent.

 

The familiar intonation pulled at her heartstrings, reminding her that this man who stood next to her, her assigned partner, her husband, was not a stranger. He was the same boy who had sat a few rows ahead of her in class, and the only person she knew who had taken a beating just so that she could eat.

 

A furious blush crept up her cheeks as she realized she had accepted her assignment, and she had married him, without even thanking him for the kind act which had kept her from starving that long cold winter all those years ago.

 

Trying for her best smile, she nodded, inwardly telling herself there would be plenty of opportunities to discuss the past.

 

“Just thinking about my family,” she whispered back, following his lead and using her native Seam drawl.

 

“Are they here?”

 

“Mm-hmm, we have a compartment in the south sector.”

 

A trace of a smile turned Peeta’s lips. “Good.”

 

They rode the rest of the way up in silence. Peeta's floor came first. The solid elevator doors opened, revealing yet another endless gray hallway.

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Peeta said as he stepped out of the car.

 

Katniss noticed his Capitol accent was back in place.

 

People might be watching now, she thought. “Yeah. Final debriefing’s at 5. Right?” she confirmed in her own high-pitched tone.

 

Peeta stopped and turned to face her. “Right. Would you like to keep this?” he asked, gesturing to the marriage certificate in his hand.

 

Katniss shook her head. “Nope. You keep it.”

 

“Ok.”

 

Peeta's  eyes found hers. The artificial light made them shimmer, and she briefly wondered whether they'd always been that bright.

 

It looked like he was about to say something else when the doors began to close between them. “Good night,” he blurted out in a rush.

 

“Good night,” she answered as the doors closed shut.

 

* * *

 

“Are you done packing?” Prim asked.

 

Katniss nodded. “Yeah, I was just going through the list one more time,” she said with a tired sigh, “It’s not like I’m taking that much. We’re only allowed one backpack.”

 

It really didn’t matter, she thought. Other than her father’s hunting jacket, she didn’t have anything worth keeping. What she valued the most was her sister, and there was no way she could take her along.

 

After leaving the piece of paper on her nightstand, Katniss turned to Prim. “How was your day, little duck? How was school?”

 

Prim shrugged. “It was ok. We had a nutritionist come in today. That was interesting.”

 

Katniss smiled. Prim had always enjoyed learning, but very few schooldays in District 12 had been _interesting_. District 13 offered more possibilities for someone as inquisitive as she was.  “Yeah?”

 

“Mm-hmm. We're going on a tour of the underground greenhouse tomorrow.”

 

“Sounds like fun.”

 

Katniss cleared her throat. She sat on her bed and patted the empty space next to her, silently inviting her sister to join her.

 

The thin mattress dipped under Prim’s weight. Wordlessly, the girl slipped her hand into Katniss’s, entwining their fingers together.

 

Swallowing the knot in her throat, Katniss began, “You have all the contact info, right?”

 

Prim nodded, her blue eyes glistened with barely contained tears.

 

“Tell me,” Katniss asked.

 

“Commander Boggs is your supervising officer,” Prim said, “He will be our go-between. We’ll establish contact once a month. All correspondence will be monitored, inspectors will read it before it's delivered.”

 

“Good. What's the clearance security password to retrieve the mail?”

 

“Dad’s name.”

 

Katniss nodded.  Her voice dropped to a hushed whisper as she prompted her sister, “If you have something private to say…”

 

“I’ll write it in the third paragraph of my letters, using Haymitch’s first code,” Prim whispered back.

 

Satisfied, Katniss smiled. Pulling their clasped hands into her lap, she added, “Now, about Mom…”

 

“Don't worry about Mom,” Prim cut her off, “she's doing a lot better these days. Her work at the clinic keeps her busy, and she’s really motivated. She’ll be fine.”

 

Stubbornly, Katniss insisted, “I know she's better, but still…”

 

“We’ll be ok,” Prim reassured her with a gentle squeeze, “If I notice Mom’s slipping, I’ll talk to her supervisor at the clinic. She won't shut down again, I promise.”

 

Appeased, Katniss faced her sister.

 

At 14, Prim was no longer the scared little girl who had refused to let go of her sister's hand when they walked around town. The “little duck” had grown in confidence. She was as bright and insightful as she was kind, and her sweetness melted even the coldest hearts.

 

Katniss had gone to great lengths to ensure Prim’s wellbeing. Looking at her sister now, she knew she had succeeded. Prim was healthy and strong. She was perfectly capable of being on her own.

 

It was still hard to let go, though.

 

As if reading her thoughts, Prim added, “Things are different now, Katniss. We have everything we need here, and we’re not alone anymore. They’ll take good care of us. So, don't worry, ok? We'll be alright.”

 

Katniss sniffled, unable to hold back her tears any longer. “I know you will, Prim. I’m just used to worrying. That's all.”

 

Prim’s tears mirrored her sister’s. Katniss could feel her tremble as she spoke. “I get it. But you need to worry about yourself now, ok? Stay safe.”

 

“I will, little duck,” Katniss assured her, “I’ll be careful, I promise.”

 

Katniss pulled Prim into her arms. The sisters held on tightly, sobbing softly as they said their goodbyes.

 

Before letting go, Katniss pressed her cheek against Prim's temple, and whispered, “This is classified, but I think you should know. I won't be going alone. I have a mission partner.”

 

Cradled in her sister’s embrace, Prim nodded, encouraging Katniss to continue.

 

Swallowing her anxiety, Katniss went on, “He’s someone I know... the baker’s son.”

 

Surprised, Prim pulled back. “He’s alive?” she mouthed.

 

Katniss nodded, pulling her sister back into her arms, she whispered, “Our mission’s code name is Mockingjay.”

 

* * *

 

They entered the Capitol through the sewage system.

 

An avox with kind eyes guided them through an intricate maze of underground corridors and delivered them to the building which was about to become their home.

 

Following the avox’s indications, Peeta knocked on a door marked as “deliveries.”

 

A moment later, the door swung open revealing the most elegant man Katniss had ever seen.

 

The man, dressed in a black suit expertly tailored to fit his slim frame, stepped aside and, with a small nod, gestured for them to follow.

 

Peeta and Katniss walked into a darkened room.

 

The avox followed, closing the door behind him as the lights in the room flickered to life.

 

Katniss's eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. They were standing in the biggest pantry she'd ever seen.

 

Tall shelves, full of sacks of flour and rows of stainless steel containers labeled with names of ingredients she didn't recognize, covered the walls.

 

Her restless eyes landed on their host.

 

The sobriety of his attire made it hard to believe he was a Capitolite. Other than a light touch of golden eyeliner, he wasn't wearing any make-up. His hair, dark and short, wouldn’t have been out of place in the Seam.

 

The man smiled. His voice was soft and warm as he spoke in a Capitol accent far softer than the one Katniss was used to. “Diana, Petrus, welcome to the Capitol! I’m Cinna. I’ll be your handler while you're here.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” Peeta answered, immediately shaking Cinna's hand.

 

Katniss silently followed her partner’s lead, smiling politely as she introduced herself.

 

Cinna turned to the avox. “Thank you, Pollux, I think I can take it from here.”

 

Pollux nodded. “I’ll come back tomorrow night,” he said, using his hands to sign the words.

 

“Thanks for your help,” Peeta said.

 

“You’re welcome,” Pollux signed. A moment later, he was gone.

 

* * *

 

Cinna looked at his new agents. They were disheveled and pale, and so young that he couldn't help comparing them to some of the tributes he’d worked with.

 

Especially the girl, -Diana, he repeated to himself- whose olive skin and gray eyes, reminded him of every girl he'd prepped for the Games.

 

With a sympathetic smile, he said, “You’re probably tired from your travel. So, I’ll just give you a quick tour of the property, and I'll let you rest. We'll have plenty of time for explanations tomorrow. Alright?”

 

Katniss and Peeta nodded in gratitude. After spending the last three days on the road, they smelled like they carried a dead skunk on their backs and they could barely keep their eyes open. The promise of rest was like music to their ears.

 

“Alright!” Cinna said clapping his hands. He looked at the room around them. “This is the basement. As you can see, it's mostly a storage space with access to the service tunnels of the city.” Signaling to the left, he added, “That door leads to your comms room. That's where you’ll find all your communication devices. You’ll need passwords to gain access. But, don't worry, we'll figure that out in the morning.” Pointing to a staircase at the end of the room, he said, “Let's go upstairs, shall we?”

 

Silently, Katniss and Peeta followed their handler as he led them into their new life.


	8. First Steps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank the lovely EverllarkingJoshifer for taking a look at this chapter. Thanks for the love and support, C! It means the world to me :)

The group reached the top of the stairs. Cinna opened a door and welcomed them into a spacious kitchen.

 

Blue and white checkered tiles covered the walls and floor. The powder blue pieces were half the size of the white ones, creating a colorful and tasteful contrast.

 

Four large ovens with impeccable stainless steel doors covered the left wall. Across from them, a white marble counter stretched out, covering the length of the room. The open shelves underneath it housed a wide array of baking sheets, molds, bowls and pans which were organized by shape and size.

 

On the far side of the counter, a couple of stand mixers with polished steel bowls gleamed. They made Katniss think of the soldiers in District 13, with their impeccable gray uniforms, ready to snap into action.

 

Next to her, Peeta gasped.

 

Slowly, almost reverently, he made his way to the marble countertop. His outstretched hand reached for the cold, smooth surface. Trembling fingers, charged with admiration and awe, delicately danced over the stone.

 

He glanced around the room. His blue eyes clouded over and a spark of longing flashed through his features as he silently took in the different appliances and equipment on display.

 

Katniss waited, unable to do anything except watch. She had never set foot in a professional kitchen before, but it didn’t take an expert to figure out they were in a bakery. She could see Peeta was thinking about the home and family he’d left behind, and she didn’t want to intrude.

 

Cinna’s soothing voice brought Peeta out of his thoughts. “What do you think?”

 

“It's beautiful,” Peeta said.

 

Cinna’s face broke into a satisfied smile. “I’m glad you like it. Over the next few days, you'll have plenty of time to acquaint yourself with everything in here. Please, don't hesitate to tell me if you need anything.”

 

Peeta nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“Don't mention it,” Cinna said, waving Peeta's words away. “You two have been charged with an enormous task. Portia and I are happy to assist you in any way we can.”

 

“Portia?” Katniss asked.

 

“Yeah, my partner,” Cinna explained, “she's a part of this as much as I am.” Looking at Peeta, he added, “She designed all the clothes you’ll be wearing. She also did the shop. Want to see it?” he asked, pointing to the swing door behind him.

 

* * *

 

Katniss's mouth dropped open as soon as she walked into the store.

 

A long display case separated the service area from the rest of the shop. Its glossy soft orange lacquer and rounded corners made her think of a sunbeam cutting through the clouds.

 

The walls, covered in swirling patterns in a symphony of pale sunset colors, took her breath away. The sheer brush strokes filled the room with light while a handful of lustrous shelves, painted in different shades of violet and pink, mimicked the capricious patterns of the evening sky.

 

A thick white stripe ran along the top of the wall, directly below the ceiling. “What's that?” Katniss asked pointing at it.

 

Cinna’s eyes glinted playfully. “Well, that's a little gift for Petrus.”

 

Surprised, Peeta chuckled. “For me?”

 

Pleased with Peeta's reaction, Cinna nodded. “It’s a frieze,” he explained, "Portia though you might want to paint it. She’s been looking at the designs Commander Boggs sent over. She figured a few sketches of bread and pastries would be the perfect addition to the shop’s décor. And, who better to paint them than the baker himself?”

 

Intrigued, Katniss turned to Peeta. “Designs?”

 

“Yeah. Commander Boggs asked me to make some sketches of the baked goods I used to make back home,” he explained.

 

Back home.

 

Katniss narrowed her eyes as her mind conjured up an image of the empty display case in front of her filled with creations from Mellark’s bakery. Small cupcakes topped with pink swirls, round tiered cakes laden with colorful bouquets made of sugar, butter cookies decorated with delicate flowers in bloom.

 

The image was so vivid she could almost see Prim, clapping and bouncing excitedly as she pointed at the storefront.

 

A sudden wave of nostalgia hit her at the thought of her sister and the cakes she had always admired. But her moment of reflection was cut short by the unexpected shiver which ran down her spine as she remembered how, after Peeta’s “death,” the colorful cakes had disappeared, leaving a boring offering of everyday loaves in their place.

 

Tears prickled her eyes as she whispered, “The cakes were yours.”

 

Shyly, Peeta nodded.

 

Katniss's words left her lips before she could stop them. “Prim loved them. She used to drag me there every week just to look at them.”

 

Peeta’s cheeks reddened, and he turned to look at the floor. “I remember.”

 

Silence settled over them as they got lost in thought, trapped in a world and a life that was no longer theirs.

 

A moment later, Cinna asked, “Shall we move on?”

 

 

* * *

 

Located above the bakery, the apartment was as warm and welcoming as the man who had decorated it.

 

Compared to the rest of the property, it was almost dull. With eggshell walls and russet accents that matched the stylish furniture and delicate ornaments Cinna had chosen to fill the space.

 

Katniss and Peeta watched in wonder as their guide showed them the different rooms of their home. Opening cabinet doors and drawers to reveal things which ranged from food to luxurious fabrics and decorations hidden behind wooden panels.

 

Katniss’s personal walk-in closet made her head spin. It was basically a long corridor which connected the bedroom she shared with Peeta with her private bathroom, but it was filled with some of the strangest things she’d ever seen.

 

Exotic feathers, jeweled capes, and lengths of faux fur tinted in different colors were just some of the items on display. By comparison, the row of gaudy dresses in bright colors –and the headdresses which matched them– looked quite tame.

 

They still made Katniss flinch, though.

 

“Don’t worry, these are not your everyday clothes,” Cinna rushed to explain, “you'll just need to wear them from time to time.

 

“If everything goes according to plan, you’ll be hobnobbing with some of the most influential people in the country. You’re going to have to look the part.”

 

Relieved, Katniss smiled.

 

“Come on, let me show you the things you’ll actually be using.  You're probably dying to get rid of those dirty clothes.”

 

* * *

 

Katniss stepped into the shower. A delicate spray of warm droplets washed over her, cleaning away the dust and grime of three days on the road.

 

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and tried to settle her mind, too overwhelmed to process everything she’d learned in the last hour.

 

She still couldn’t believe she was in the Capitol.

 

Nothing in all her years of training had prepared her for the shocking reality of walking into a pantry overflowing with food.

 

Her mind struggled to come to terms with the fact that she now lived in a tastefully decorated apartment which was big enough to house three families, but which had somehow been furnished to accommodate only two people.

 

Her heart sank as she thought of her mother and Prim. Living in their small compartment, hidden away from the light.

 

 _But they’re safe_ , she told herself, _that’s what matters_.

 

She opened her eyes and analyzed the control panel on the wall. Different buttons indicating temperatures, types of water spray, and scents looked back at her.

 

She scowled, she had never understood why Capitol showers had to be so complicated. Hesitantly, she pressed one of the buttons and hoped for the best.

 

A mild flowery perfume enveloped her. She breathed it in and smiled, delighted with her choice.

 

After her shower, a blast of warm air, coming through the floor’s tiles, dried her off.

 

Feeling clean and relaxed she draped a bathrobe over her shoulders and stepped into her walk-in closet.

 

Trying her best to ignore the discomfort she felt at the sight of so much opulence, she hurried to open the dresser where Cinna had stored her sleep clothes.

 

She still didn’t know what to make of him. This handler who was supposed to help them navigate the murky Capitol waters. She hardly knew anything about him, but she remembered him from TV. His unusual designs intrigued audiences every year.

 

According to Claudius Templesmith, he had secured more sponsors for District 12 than Haymitch ever had.  

 

Haymitch.

 

The thought of her mentor made Katniss frown. For someone who liked following orders and directives just as much as she did, the old victor had been very tight lipped about his associates. She still hadn’t forgiven him for training Peeta behind her back.

 

After rummaging through the drawers for a bit, Katniss settled on a hunter green pajama set. The soft fabric was like a warm caress against her skin.

 

As Katniss reveled in the comfort of her new clothes, she knew one thing to be true. Cinna was undoubtedly stylish, but he also had simple tastes. And, for that, she was grateful.

 

* * *

 

Katniss walked into the bedroom and found Peeta was already there, sitting in bed and reading a book by the light of his bedside table.

 

A gust of cold wind slipped through the open window making her shiver. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself.

 

Looking up from his book, Peeta asked, “You Ok?”

 

Katniss rubbed her arms to warm up. “Yeah, it’s a bit… chilly. That’s all.”

 

Peeta’s cheeks reddened. “Oh! Sorry, that’s my fault,” he said, getting up from the bed and walking to the window. “I always sleep with the windows open. I didn’t think…” he reached the window and snapped it shut. “Is that better?”

 

Katniss looked at him, he looked so worried and frazzled that she was instantly sorry she had said anything. She was a bit cold, it wasn’t a big deal.

 

“Oh, no… I mean… yeah, it’s fine,” frustrated, she huffed. “Just open it again.”

 

Peeta crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to catch a cold or anything. I can always work something else out.”

 

“I’m not gonna catch a cold,” she countered with a scowl. “Let’s try it this way, just for tonight. If it ends up being too cold, we’ll find another way.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

Looking straight into his eyes, she answered, “Yes!”

 

Peeta shrugged and turned to open the window once more. “Alright, but let me know if it gets too chilly, ok?”

 

“Mm-hmm.”

 

Katniss climbed in bed.

 

A moment later, the mattress dipped under Peeta’s weight. He opened his book and began reading once more.

 

Katniss huddled under the covers and lay still, waiting for sleep to claim her, but something was off. There was a strange tension in the air she hadn’t felt before. Her first instinct was to blame Peeta and his antics with the window, but a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach told her it wasn’t his fault.

 

Irritated, she chewed her lower lip and mulled over the situation.

 

Things had been fine over the last few days. Good, even. She had worried at first, about traveling undercover with someone she hardly knew. The notion of having to share everything from creaky bunk beds to cans of soup had seemed a little too intimate and not exactly appealing. But Peeta was good-natured and friendly. And, even though she wasn’t open and trusting, he had made things easy for her.

 

She hadn’t had any problems dealing with him until just now.  So, why had things turned awkward all of a sudden?

 

 _It’s never been just the two of us before_ , she suddenly realized.

 

Except for the elevator ride after their wedding, they had never been on their own. And that ride had been too short to even count. They’d barely had time to say anything at all.

 

Her eyes snapped open as one more thought popped into her mind. _I haven’t thanked Peeta for the bread yet!_

 

Her chest tightened, and she felt her cheeks burning up with embarrassment. She was tired, and she still hadn’t figured out how to approach the subject. But she knew she couldn't wait any longer. She had already wasted too much time as it was. And, now that she had remembered the incident, her unspoken words hung between them, suffocating her and making it impossible to breathe anymore.

 

Even if Peeta didn’t remember giving her the bread, she still did. There was no way they could live together without bringing it up.

 

With a deep, steadying breath, Katniss collected her strength. She pushed herself into a sitting position, resting her back against the headboard, and pulled the blanket to cover her lap. She cleared her throat.

 

Dropping her Capitol accent for the first time in days, she said, “So…”

 

Peeta’s sleepy voice reached her ears. “Yeah?”

 

Her hands, hidden under the blanket, trembled as she began, “I, um, I wanted to say ‘thank you.'”

 

Peeta’s book snapped closed. She had his undivided attention now. “What for?” he asked.

 

Tightening her fists under the covers, Katniss tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. “For giving me those loaves of bread when we were kids.”

 

There was a sharp intake of breath, followed by the movement of the bed shifting as Peeta turned his body towards her.

 

Katniss didn’t move. She could feel his gaze fixed on her, but she didn’t dare look back. She was already breaking protocol by addressing things from their shared past. And in her native accent, to boot! She needed to thank him, but she wasn’t sure she could handle giving him a detailed explanation. If Peeta had something to say, he was just going to have to spill it out.

 

Time dragged on. The sound of Peeta’s slow, deliberate breathing filled the room.

 

Just when Katniss was about to cave in and look at him, he asked, “Did it help?”

 

She closed her eyes and sighed, releasing her anxiety into the chilly air. “It did,” she quietly admitted, “I don't think we would have survived what was left of the winter without them.”

 

Peeta’s voice, free of all Capitol mannerisms, was as soothing as warm honey. “I’m glad I could help.”

 

Katniss smiled, instantly relieved by Peeta’s words. She had carried the heavy burden of guilt for many years, and she couldn’t believe how easy this conversation was turning out to be. Feeling suddenly brave, she turned to look at Peeta.

 

He was smiling back at her. The happy glow in his eyes made her slightly lightheaded.

 

“Thank you,” she repeated, a little bit louder and clearer this time.

  

“You’re very welcome.” Peeta pressed his lips together. He looked like he was about to say something more but, after a moment, he looked away.

 

Satisfied, Katniss sank into the mattress. Her mind was finally at peace. Her limbs, heavy with exhaustion, began to relax.

 

Peeta dropped the book he had been reading onto his bedside table and reached out to switch off the light.

 

The mattress bounced a couple of times as the partners settled in for the night.

 

“G’night,” Katniss said, barely stifling a yawn.

 

“G’night,” Peeta mumbled back.

 

Protected by the warm cocoon of the thick comforter, Katniss closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Crisp winter air, soothing and fresh, kissed her cheeks and filled her lungs.

 

As the soft hum of distant traffic lulled her to sleep, Katniss smiled. Maybe the open window wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank the incredible Akai-Echo, for creating such a beautiful banner for this story.
> 
> Kudos and comments are as sweet as Peeta's shy smile. You always make my day when you share them with me. Thanks!
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr. I'm javistg over there, come and say hi!
> 
> The Hunger Games Trilogy is the property of Suzanne Collins. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.


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